


You Mean Nothing to Me

by orphan_account



Category: Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, M/M, Memory Loss, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4739462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a year of being in a coma and waking up from the hospital - Murmurer à Son Oreille (whisper in his ear) preview - Hannibal brings Nigel home. Nigel says something that utterly breaks Hannibal's heart. Hannibal wants to take Nigel to Paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Mean Nothing to Me

The brothers had only been home for a few days. For most of them, Nigel lounged around in a thick white robe looking sullen. Hannibal had decided that it was time for his brother to start getting out of the house. Even a walk would do him good. Inviting Nigel into his huge walk in closet, he offers him any pick of his clothes. Sure they would be a little big on his thin frame, but it was a start. 

“Anything you want, just take it. I know it may not be your style, but I’m sure you can find something.”

“I don’t fucking remember what I used to wear before all of this fucking thing happened.” Nigel brusquely comments as he mindlessly rummages through all the hangers. “Why don’t you just pick the ones that would actually fit me, those look all big.”

“They’re going to be a little big, Nigel. We’ll get you something that fits soon. First we have to get you out of the house. You’re certainly not going to wear that out shopping.” Pulling a pair of pants from underneath a stack, they tumble onto the floor. 

Nigel’s eyes flicker along the neatly hung jackets and he catches a dark navy leather jacket that might fit him nicely. “Well, perhaps this one then. Nothing really catches my eyes, but this one does for some reason.” 

Without even looking, Hannibal nods. “Fine.” Continuing to pick up the pants, he spies an old stuffed bear behind some shoes on the floor. A myriad of emotion flashes. Mainly longing, sadness and grief, knowing that his brother won’t remember when he sees this. 

As Nigel snatches the jacket from the hanger and puts them on to see if it fits well on his lean frame, his eyes catch the glimpse of the teddy bear behind the boots. grabbing them as he wants to try them later, he plucks the stuffed bear out and laughs. “Why the fuck would a grown up man keep a fucking teddy bear?”

He shakes his head and shoves his feet inside the boots. The arm of the teddy bear hanging loosely from his grasp and it drops on the floor next to him. 

Snatching the bear off the floor, Hannibal places it on a shelf above the row of hangers. “Do I go through your things?” Stealing a quick glimpse of the bear, he faintly sighs. “I don’t suppose it jars any memories loose for you, does it?” The words come out a bit harsher than he intends to speak.

Nigel bluntly spats. “I don’t have any fucking thing I can call my possession. All I have is this fucking white robe.” He carelessly plucks out a thin white shirt from a stack of t-shirts. 

“That thing doesn’t ring any fucking bell.” Taking off the leather jacket, he puts the t-shirt on and puts on the jacket again.

Shaking his head, Hannibal lowers his eyes and bends down to continue picking up the pants that had fallen. “I didn’t think it would. Nevermind. It’s hard to explain sentimental value I suppose if you don’t have any memory of it.”

Nigel’s forehead furrows a bit. “I mean, you keep calling me Nigel, so I only know that’s my name, I suppose. I don’t even fucking know who you are. You mean nothing to me.” He mutters as he walks out of the dressing room, redoing the collar on the leather jacket as he sits on the edge of the bed.

The words hit Hannibal like a punch in the gut, Shoulders slumped, he crouches over the pile of wrinkled pants, not moving. “That was a cruel thing to say,” he mumbles under his breath. Leaving the walk in closet, he slams the door. “I’d like to be alone now. I think you should leave and go back to your room.”

“Well, as much as I fucking want to remember, I am not lying.” Nigel unemotionally says as he takes off the leather jacket, leaving it on the mattress in Hannibal’s bedroom. “I guess wherever you were going to take me, we’re not going.” He walks back to his room and shuts the door quietly. 

Putting on his best impassive face, Hannibal crosses his arms across his chest. Despite his defensive posture, the only thing he can say is the truth. “I just can’t do this now. I can’t. I need to be alone. I know it’s not your fault that you don’t remember. Just … please. I don’t want to get emotional about it.” 

As soon as Nigel leaves, he exhales a heavy sigh. Walking back into the closet, he takes the bear from the shelf and brings it to the bed. 

Retreating to his small room, Nigel lays on top of his small mattress and crosses his arm over behind his head. His brain begins to feel a bit fuzzy as he tries to remember, but he can’t recall anything. The position of the bed and the windows is strikingly familiar, but he doesn’t know what it is. 

“I remember you,” he sighs, stroking the bear. The brown fur is matted and worn out in places. The paint chipped on its plastic eyes. Hannibal swallows a lump in his throat as he recalls the day Nigel won it for him at the fair. 

He knocks quietly on Nigel’s door, the bear in his hand. “Can I come in?”

When he hears Hannibal knock on the door, Nigel’s eyes had been shut, a stream of light landing on the side of his face as he turns his head towards the door. “What?” He grumbly says out loud. “Yeah, I suppose.” 

A faint hint of tears in his eyes, Hannibal sits down on the edge of Nigel’s bed. “I’m sorry that I threw you out like that. I can’t even imagine how hard it must be to be so detached from your past.” Laying the bear beside his brother’s hand, he weakly smiled. “This is Alexander. You won him for me when we were fifteen.”

Nigel exasperatingly sighs as he looks at Hannibal’s face. “I have no fucking idea why you keep crying in front of me. It makes me feel bad. Uneasy, did I do something wrong? All I’ve seen you do with me is to see your eyes swollen all the time.” 

His fingertip brushes against the corner of Hannibal’s eyes, a faint touch. Grabbing the bear and lifting it by his ear, he tilts his head and pushes the muzzle, which had worn with time and the fur matte. “What do you mean I ‘won’ him?” 

His eyes grow more liquid the more Hannibal tries not to cry. Lids slipping closed at Nigel’s touch, a faint tremble shakes his hands. He watches as his brother studies the bear, pushing aside the questions he’s unable to answer without falling apart. 

Exhaling a deep breath, Hannibal’s fingers glance over the bear’s head. “I mean you won him for me at a fair. When we lived in Paris we’d go every year.” A vague smile pulled at his lips. “I don’t even remember what game it was. Throwing baseballs. Shooting a target. I don’t know.” Looking into Nigel’s eyes, his own soften. “You wouldn’t give up until you’d won me a prize.” 

“Sounds like a fucking stubborn and adamant kid.” Nigel softly smirks and puts the bear on his chest. “I have no fucking recollection of any of that stuff, I mean… I don’t even know what your name is.” He frowns.

He wistfully ponders and licks his lips. “Well, I know from what you told me that we are brothers. I still don’t have a fucking clue why you have all of those drawings with me naked, but were we….. doing the do also?” 

Eyes lowered over his hands, Hannibal rubs his fingers, uneasy. “You do know my name. And I didn’t need to tell you we were brothers You can see it yourself when you look in the mirror.” A long silence passes. Finally lifting his head, he looks at Nigel with a blank expression. Betrayed only by the rim of tears around his eyes. “If you’re asking me if we were lovers, the answer is yes. I’m sure you don’t have any memory of that either.”

Staring at the ceiling as his brow furrows even further, Nigel’s eyes close for a while, then opens back up. “No…I don’t. I don’t know what your name is and I now do know that from looking at the mirror, we are twins.” Another long exhale slips from his slightly parted lips. 

Swallowing as his adam’s apple bob, Nigel brings his face closer to his brother’s and kisses his lips. “Lovers. Hm… I don’t know. If we were supposed to be lovers, then I should feel something. I don’t feel anything.” 

Tears now streaming down his cheeks, Hannibal wipes his mouth with his hand. “Then why did you fucking just kiss me. … I can’t … I can’t do this now.” Closing his eyes, he shakes his head. Fists pressed into the bed, he leans over his knees, rocking. “I’m sorry. Coming in to talk to you was a mistake. I’m not ready for this.” Quickly, he retreats to his own room. Lying down on the bed, he curls on his side, crying into his hands.

A heavy sigh slips out as Nigel quietly looks at his brother’s slumped back. Rubbing his lip with his thumb, which has his and his brother’s saliva, he blinks slowly and looks down at the tranquil street, without any pedestrians and only a few cars passing through quietly. 

His tongue moves inside his mouth as he tries to relish the soft kiss. His eyes closing back down again, he falls asleep as he lays on his side, facing the slightly open door. 

As Hannibal lays on his bed, memories of their life together flood his mind. It was painful enough being without Nigel, but hearing him say that he meant nothing to him was worse. Despite knowing that his brother was suffering with an impairment, he knew also that he was telling the truth. It was in his eyes. He really did mean nothing to Nigel. Sobbing, he clutched a pillow to his chest. 

In his fitful sleep, Nigel only saw a vague snippets of what his brother had been telling him. Him winning that fucking bear, not giving up until he had won something. He sucked at shooting balls. He wasn’t good at whacking those goddamn moles. He’d only get frustrated and break the machine. 

The shooting game was what he was best at. He literally aced it. Within the first try, he had grasped the toy gun and had won his brother the teddy bear that he desperately tried to win until the game booth closed. 

Waking up from the sleep and storming inside Hannibal’s room, Nigel lays by Hannibal’s side and shakes his shoulder. “Why don’t you take me to that goddamn fair? Perhaps winning you that fucking bear will do something with my memory.”

At the sound of Nigel barging in, Hannibal clutches the pillow tighter, afraid of what his brother might say. He rubs the tears from his cheek and pulls Nigel’s arm around his waist. His voice weak from crying. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t owe me anything. … “ Closing his eyes, his breath shudders with sobs. “I can’t force you to feel about me the way I feel about you.” Clutching Nigel’s hand, he brings it up to his chest. “I want to. … It’s so selfish of me, but my god I want to.”

His gaze traveling to Hannibal’s waist as his hand strokes his brother’s waist, Nigel’s other hand cups his twin’s cheek and wipes the tears away, their hands brushing for a moment. “I want to.” He merely says. 

Feeling Hannibal’s elevated and strongly thumping heartbeat, Nigel lets out a loud exhale, somewhat frustrated. “Then take me, Paris you said, I think. Take me to Paris, so I can remember.”


End file.
